An Abstract Asylum
by SophiaL17
Summary: One person can make a world's difference in one's life, and change its course. Severus Snape is experiencing such change. But what his life will become, better or worse, only Time knows.
1. It is nothing

_**An Abstract Asylum**_

_**Chapter one: It is nothing**_

* * *

The spicy aroma prickled his nose while Severus Snape stared at his cup. His hands absorbed the warmth of the tea and the reflection of his face was seen in the liquid. It wasn't a nice sight: even in the slightly distorted mirror-image, he could still see many flaws.

With a small flick of his wrist, the image disappeared. The corners of his lips curled up a little and the cup was raised. A small sip was taken and the flavour and scent, not entirely familiar, flooded his tongue and nose. He swallowed and set the white porcelain back on the small table with a quiet sigh.

This tea certainly tasted different, contradicting the appealing aroma; it wasn't particularly pleasant. Snape scratched a quick, invisible mental note to not choose this flavour again on his next visit.

He exhaled a little harder than necessary when he thought about the many tea visits he had the fortune to experience. And the future ones.

Snape glanced to his left and saw that the man sharing his company was munching on a half-eaten biscuit – his fourth one – while he turned another page of an old book. A small laugh, and then the book was gently closed.

There was a silence for a moment.

"And?"

Severus was trying to sound nonchalant, but Albus knew him too well. He knew that Severus was curious to see how he would react.

"It is... interesting."

Albus gazed at the other. Severus kept his face neutral, but an amused gleam could be detected in his dark brown eyes.

"Is it?" Severus asked.

"Yes."

A few seconds passed and when Albus watched Severus, he saw the other trying to conceal a small grin. Albus gently put the book down on the small table and swallowed the rest of the biscuit.

It had been a while since Albus saw that familiar expression and gleam: such a genuine, yet concealed smile. Severus had never been an open person. Everything was kept hidden and he behaved only in the most logical and, in his opinion, appropriate way.

After he had accepted the invitation, repeated numerous times, to become the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, Severus would occasionally show his true feelings or voice his inner thoughts. These occasions were rare, even back then, and now becoming even more so. Every time when Albus met his youngest colleague, Severus seemed to close another small, almost imperceptible part of his mind and soul, replacing it with the mask of impassiveness.

Even now, when Albus subtly studied Severus, he had successfully become an epitome of silence and absolute control over mind and body.

Snape drank the last dregs of his tea, stood up and looked at the cover of the book, the title dull. The movement brought Albus out of his reverie, and he stared across the room at Severus.

"You are leaving?" he enquired, trying to sound conversational, and perhaps slowing his retreat.

"Yes. It's quite late."

Snape moved the door's handle. The Headmaster watched his back for a moment, before he stood up and accompanied him to the next door.

Snape stopped, his fingers holding the round, wooden material, and looked at the other.

"You know, Albus... you are a bad liar," he murmured.

Albus widened his eyes while Severus closed the door, surprised at his remark. But what had surprised him more was the small smile and the amused, pleased tone that had touched Severus' soft voice.

Severus wasn't someone who would act rashly: he had perfect control over his movements and thoughts. At all times, he seemed to plan them. He said only what was necessary, showed facial expression only if he truly believed there was something to gain from it. And he was an observer, a quiet observer: he liked to watch things.

This personality trait could be unnoticeable sometimes; if the other person didn't interest him, he would quickly focus his attention on something else. That wasn't to say he was easily bored. If something wasn't challenging enough mentally, Severus was always on the look out for a better challenge.

When he found such a challenge, of course, Severus would scrutinize everything. Albus was one such challenge.

Severus would always try to read and understand Albus' actions and reactions; always examining every movement, expression, sound and word. He tried to do this as subtly as possible, but he didn't know that he was facing someone who could be an equal to him. Whatever Severus would see, Albus would see too in him. When Severus had solved another mystery, Albus had figured out another answer in the big, deep puzzle box. If Severus thought he understood something of him without compromising himself, Albus would receive various understandable signals in return.

Severus documented Albus. Albus had done the same, but without Severus' knowledge. And after years of patience, restraint and examination, but mainly patience, Severus had begun to open up.

Severus had changed, since then, and Albus was quite pleased that he was a helping factor. At first, things hadn't been easy; Severus was very reluctant, coming up with excuse after excuse to keep Albus at a comfortable distance, but never comfortable for Albus. When Albus dared to take a step closer, he would step back twice the distance.

But, as Severus would soon learn, Albus was persisting. Very persistent. With every small talk, dialogue, smile, and each tea invitation, Severus was slowly changing. After years of prodding and nudging, Albus had finally seen a reaction, and one of his wishes had finally been granted.

After they had both, but mainly Severus, with Albus' assistance, climbed over the slippery wall, all went better. Severus showed different gestures when they were in private: Albus would almost never be stopped, the barriers were less firm and fewer in numbers, Severus took the initiative to begin a conversation – but that was rare, even now – and Albus noticed a broader range of emotions and thoughts. But Severus wasn't showing a similar behaviour in someone else's company. Even Minerva, a good friend, Severus would still have some restraints and cautiousness. Minerva had commented this on numerous occasions, thinking that if it were pointed out to Albus, Severus would soon change his attitude.

If he could, he would do it, of course. But, would Severus want that? Minerva and Severus had always had something that was more than a teacher and student relationship, but he would always keep some distance and indifference. Even when they became colleagues, Albus noted that Severus had not changed. Not much.

A more pressing question was, would _he_, Albus, want it? Ask a stranger to secretly observe Severus and Albus together, and they would immediately think that this pair was sharing more than a superficial bond. Ask Albus and he would answer, without a pause, that this bond meant very much to him, and was one of the few he refused to trade or sacrifice for anything else.

It was strange, but Albus couldn't picture Severus acting in the same manner with someone else. It would feel... unnatural and forced. This was good, because Albus was sure that if such a bond was shared with someone else, he would feel unpleasant emotions. Not toward Severus, of course, but toward the other: the person who dared to infiltrate the closeness he shared with Severus... only a fraction of a second he would think this, though.

Thinking back, Albus sometimes struggled to remember the man Severus had used to be... now, he saw only the Severus that he had created, when once upon a time, he would have agreed with the majority: Severus was rude, forbidding and impossible to be with.

But now, Severus was changing again, back into his old self.

The signs were so subtle that an outsider wouldn't notice a difference, but Albus had seen it all.

He had attempted to ignore them. Severus had a changeable nature. He could be content and relaxed, and the next moment, he would abruptly express anger and irritation. At first, these constant mood swings had shocked and surprised Albus, but he had come to accept it: simply because it was Severus.

But, after a week, they became more noticeable, and he could ignore them no longer.

This evening, he had carefully raised this subject, but Severus had gently steered their conversation to another direction. He understood the subtle message.

He had felt his anxiety diminish, just a little, for he had seen some reassuring signals as the day had progressed. For example, how Severus had bid his farewell this evening. The unexpected words and the glimmer of cheerfulness in the younger man's eyes still made him smile and did begin to melt any doubt he had.

But still, he wasn't entirely convinced. Severus had been light hearted tonight, but that did not mean that his troubles had suddenly vanished: it was too short a time of period to generate any conclusive results.

Then again, maybe it was nothing.

Albus slowly sat down in his plush couch and stared at the carpet.

It was nothing. It was his concerned mind playing tricks with him and deceiving things. It was an old man's excessive and unnecessary worry about every small change in his friend. It was the result of old, but clear fragments, mingling with and manipulating present ones.

Yes, it was nothing.

* * *

As Snape was sitting on the hard chair, his mind was beginning to think about the happened things, a few hours ago.

He knew something was slightly off when he heard the jubilant greeting. It sounded... forced, and the tea wasn't summoned, even after minutes. Instead, the Headmaster began to talk, or more specifically, ask disguised questions; first trivial ones, and then gradually moving toward Snape's comfort zone.

With each question, Snape felt comfort seeping away, and when he heard a subtle comment about his changed behaviour, he felt panic and fear. He had been trying to act normally, but it was very difficult. He had been thinking about so many things recently, and some had still captured his attention. He couldn't trust himself to stay impassive; it was too difficult to do many things at the same time, so he used one of his tactics when someone came too close: distraction.

Snape quickly asked the Headmaster a question. After the answer, albeit saying after a pause and a stare, he delved deeper in that subject.

He was half-expecting that Dumbledore would repeat his previous enquiry after he fell silent again, the subject Snape had chosen wasn't one that could start a conversation, but he didn't. Instead, Albus summoned tea.

Snape was sure that the Headmaster knew what he had done, yet he had followed the change of direction. He was secretly glad for it.

The rest of the visit went much better. He even had to stop himself from smiling a few times. Which was strange, because that didn't reflect his thoughts. That confused him, because he had felt happiness in the fresh, passed minutes. He had almost been content. But that wasn't right; he should not be feeling happiness. Yet, he embraced it.

This led to another question: if he was suddenly much more relaxed... why was he feeling something different, the complete opposite of happiness, in the first place?

He was doing this again. He stopped that train of thought and focused on other points of their meeting.

He had felt comfortable. This had taken many years of hard work, but before then, he had never been so comfortable.

Recently, too. He had not experienced such contentment for weeks, or even months, but Albus had a habit of bringing a smile on Snape's lips.

The relationship he shared with Albus had changed over the years. He had changed, even though he had almost promised himself that he would not let Albus' influence affect him. He was given something, even though he hadn't asked for it, and certainly wouldn't accept it. His pride would not allow it.

And, although he would never reveal that to anyone, not even to the person who had caused them, he had experienced new emotions and thoughts. Most had confused and frightened him, but most hadn't harmed him, even though he had vowed to himself that he wouldn't acknowledge them and would not allow them to control him.

It was strange how much one person could make such a big difference, but that was exactly what Albus had done.

The people who had had a deciding factor in his life could be counted in mere seconds, and the persons who meant much to him could be expressed with one hand.

Every one of them were on one list, but not on the other.

Except Albus. He appeared on both lists. Not only that. Snape also suspected that he had the most important position. He supposed it wasn't a bad thing that he had no desire to demote him. He didn't object the current order.

But now Snape was afraid that other persons were trying to climb and forcefully shove Albus away. He felt their influences: he had been subtly changing again.

He didn't know when it began. It could have been occurring for a very long time or this could be the first time in many years. But that didn't matter now: the fact that he had noticed it, was weighing heavier than Time.

What he wanted to know was the cause. Why was he changing?

And it was curious that _both_ had changed at the same time.

He sensed, as soon as he had arrived, that his presence was immediately noticed. That, in itself, was strange: he had always been the last person someone would focus on and he could fairly disguise his presence. Two eyes followed him as he walked to the remaining empty spot. Snape had ignored them, but when he stood still he had not other alternative but to stare at them, one of the first lessons that he had learned from him. He began to feel uncomfortable when they didn't avert their attention on his eyes, something that would happen after a few moments: they increased their focus and the distance between them narrowed slightly.

Only when one of his colleagues walked a little forward and turned everyone's attention to her, did he breathe normally again.

As the meeting continued, another pair of eyes, icy grey this time, glanced at him. Their stare wasn't so penetrating, not so unnerving, but still Snape found he could not lower his guard. When both pairs were aimed in his direction, he could feel the anxiety attempting to shatter his chest.

When the meeting ended, he was the first move away from the group. He could feel emotions threatening him, and he didn't know how long he could mountain this outer, cool exterior.

Snape expected a voice, ordering him to stay behind, but no words reached his ears. After a couple of more steps, he expected a hand on his shoulder or arm, stopping his retreat, but no touch was sensed. He only felt two pair of eyes examining his back.

How different, and yet the same that was, compared to a few hours ago, when gentle blue eyes fixed themselves on his back, watching his every move. Snape still didn't know how he could remain comfortable. He had even told him the truth, without a pause in his mind, mingled with emotions and even with curled lips.

Snape breathed deeply, stood up and stretched his back with a small groan, coaxing his muscles to loosen themselves.

This was only the first time and he his mind was already in this state. Not much had even happened, but he still didn't feel complete relaxation.

Snape sat down again while glancing at the clock. He sighed deeply when he saw what time it actually was, and straightened his legs. He ought to rest. He moved to a slightly larger, and thus more comfortable sofa. From the corner of his eye, he saw a more suited couch, but he refused to travel the small distance and the soft texture wouldn't do him good.

Now was not the time to feel content.

Snape quickly lay down, rested his head against the hard cushion and stared at the ceiling.

This would be a long night.

* * *

As Albus Dumbledore brought the last bit of his breakfast to his mouth with slight disappointment, the last bite would always bring with it a small sombreness, for it ended something he enjoyed and marked the beginning of a less enjoyable part of the never-ending cycle, he heard a door opening and closing again. He turned his head to gaze at that direction of the sound, and saw Severus choosing the seat with the least amount of steps to take. Stopping his advance, Albus called his name and signalled to the empty chair next to him, reserved for him.

He noticed slight stiffening in his posture, and the eyes' movements were quicker than normal, but he ignored them. When Severus slowly sat down, Albus greeted him in a more proper way. Severus only nodded and glanced at the appeared food with a small scowl.

It was no surprise that Severus made no movement to pick up the utensils. He usually sat further away from Albus, so he could disguise his movements, and Albus knew that the younger man didn't need to consume much food to function properly.

The first few weeks that Severus had arrived at this place, he observed this. In the early days, he kept his mouth closed and thought of all kind of reasons for his lack of appetite, thinking that the problem would be soon resolved. But, when that didn't happen, he asked Severus. The answer surprised Albus, and he couldn't hide his sceptical expression. The result, no illness and weakening of his body and mind, attempted to convince him, but he wasn't easily persuaded. Severus _was _a Potions Master and a talented wizard: he could easily have taken potions or strengthened himself with a spell.

So, Albus did something that he still regretted: without Severus' consent and knowledge, he shot a diagnose-spell in his direction. When it didn't give a conclusive response, the last resistance broke and he accepted Severus' answer. His tight, invisible grip remained on Severus, but when no change was detected in the next couple of days, he loosened his wrongful hold.

But still, when Albus glanced at him, he was not entirely at ease. A human body needed nutrients. When it didn't come from food, it had to come in another way... such as potions. Severus had ignored them both for many years now, maybe even longer. The result was seen in front of him.

Worse still, Albus was sure that his eating habits were not the only cause of such a thin and drained figure. There must be something else, slowly gnawing at him.

Albus waited for the younger man to talk, but, when he remained silent, he reversed the roles. He asked Severus how he was and told him about an interesting letter he had received this morning...

But Severus remained relatively unresponsive.

Silence wasn't uncommon. Albus came to know that Severus was not the talking type. He desired a quiet, peaceful environment with as few people as possible, or maybe even an isolated place without disturbance. If he did find himself in a crowded place, he didn't fade in the mass, but detached himself from it. If he had the mishap of someone noticing and approaching him, he would respond with only the needed words and actions. If they prodded further, Severus would chase them away with a precise, aimed verbal strike. He could do that very easily: he had many different ways to succeed and knew exactly which method was the most effective.

People soon learned to stay at a range when noticing Severus' presence. Not many had the courage, or foolishness, to come closer. Only a few had the privilege to cross the gap without struggle, even less were allowed to reach out and almost no one would see a different side of Severus, the side that was carefully hidden for most spectators.

In a way, Albus knew that this habit was far from healthy. Humans were social beings, relationships were crucial to survive, but every person was different and not every being should be counted as an ordinary one. And Severus was certainly not an average person. If Severus chose to go against the wind, then that was his choice. Albus respected this and would not seek to change it. Besides, it wasn't having a very bad influence on him, and Albus suspected that Severus was shaped in this way by Past's harsh trials and assaults, that this was his reaction and defence against them. His solution was not the best response, but if it didn't hinder the younger man in a nasty way, then it should be no problem.

That was, until now.

Albus could easily see the slight dips below his eyes, the slower movements and tensed body. He could easily imagine in what manner the black eyes were staring at the table. He only wished he could know which thoughts were anchoring him down.

A sudden thought bounced against him. Albus straightened his back, Could he...

No, that wouldn't work. It could work at another time and place, but not at this early hour and packed place. And... he didn't want to make the same mistake again, for he was afraid that he would find himself delving deeper than necessary, even when the other was still oblivious of the intrusion: Severus' deepest thoughts would remain forbidden territory until he would say otherwise. Having said that, Albus was curious, a _small_ bit, to know what he would find in that unexplored area.

Sounds from every direction brought him out from the depths of his mind: students rose from their places and walked away, their talking and movements amplified, and remaining teachers followed the examples of the young ones in a more silent, less chaotic fashion.

The Great Hall came alive, but not everyone was, as Albus illustrated, and he had no intention to move just yet. Apparently, Albus wasn't the only one: Severus stared in front of him for a long moment, and then, with a deep breath and a small shake of his head, stood up. He was about to take a step, but when he felt Albus staring openly at him, Severus turned his face and parted his lips. No sound escaped, only a puff of air, one that suspiciously sounded like a sigh, Albus noted. He nodded his head toward Albus, in a similar fashion before he sat down, and marched away.

Albus watched him, wordlessly and unmoving, until the door came between them.

* * *

_This chapter is reposted, and I've changed the summary. Some (minor) things needed to be changed, to prevent contradiction in future chapters. Nothing crucial will be missed, if you've already read the old version, though._

_I know that this, first chapter is heavily focused on inner dialogues. I felt that this was needed, to get a view of their thoughts, feelings and the present situation. Don't worry, you will read plenty of dialogues in future chapters. _

_This story will be my biggest and most challenging project. It will be different from my other stories, partly because of my changed writing style, partly because I intend to focus even more on (the dynamics between) the (main) characters and the main characters' developments, and partly because I want to reach a new goal: an impressive amount of words, after I've finished writing the last chapter._

_But, it will also contain... _slash_. Now, before you run away, please read at least this AN. I know that some do not like pairings which are not canon (trust me, I hate some pairings, too), or are against relationships between two people, having the same gender, but I think that some thoughts are slightly prejudiced, or formed because of ignorance or misunderstanding. Some pairings are given enough space (e.g., not enough background information about them, not enough focus on their relationship) by the original author. The pair which I intend to focus on, is one such pair. _

_With this fic, I hope you will see a different side of slash. Slash doesn't have to be written in very clear language, doesn't have to be very descriptive and doesn't have to be filled with action. Implications, subtlety, words or actions with double meanings, are key-words here. Slash isn't only about horny (fe)males, having wild, mindless sex whenever they can touch the other's body, OOC actions that are too rushed and illogical, and pairings which are miles away from canon material. I admit that the last one is quite difficult to prevent, especially when dealing with something like the Harry Potter novels. The majority of many, supporting characters are not given as much attention as the title character. This leads much to one's imagination, and vague actions or words can be interpreted in many different ways. _

_I can already safely say that the first mentioned __will not_ _appear in this story. I'm not very fond of bold language, and...well, I'm not very... experienced in this. _

_I cannot guarantee this, but I will do my very best to avoid the second one. As said before, this story will be the longest one, and I intend to use a large part of it for character development, actions and reactions, and a (slow) increase of tension before important events. _

_I understand I'm offending some fellow FF authors now, because I've read slash stories which are superb. I know that I have an opinion too and am bound to find other, clashing opinions, and am only targeting my arrows on a select few. _

_I am not saying that you must all embrace slash now, and plunder the whole HP section, in an eager search to read all the slash stories of your favourite character(s). __If you're absolutely against slash (or if my arguments haven't persuaded you), then this story will not be suited for you. _

_But, if you're still in doubt, then why not give it a chance? You can always stop, if you run against something you don't like. _

_If you _love _slash, then I hope that An Abstract Asylum will not disappoint you and your expectations._

_If you have any questions so far, want to add your own thoughts about the slash-thingy or if you completely disagree with me (or if you want to review the story itself), then feel free to PM me (or review, whatever works best for you). If you respond, and are part of the third 'group', please keep in mind that I want to see more than one sentence. It doesn't have to be a lengthy page, or making you type for a long period, but I do expect to read sensible words. After all, I am very curious to see which other opinions exist. In response, I'll try to respond as accurately as I can. __I won't try to change your opinion, but I'm just very curious to know what your view is on this subject. _

_Thank you for reading this, and I apologize for the length: I normally don't write ANs of this size._

_Before I forget, chapter two is almost finished. Expect an update again, very soon!_


	2. Knight and his King

_**Chapter two: Knight and his King**_

* * *

Albus was sitting in his usual place: behind the wooden desk.

At this hour, it would usually be littered with papers, books and writing equipments. It was now surprisingly empty, except for a few practical items, such as sweets, always within reach.

He had been waiting for some minutes now. To know it precisely, he eyed the pendulum clock that rested proudly, and loudly; the sounds magnified in this silence.

Eight minutes and twenty eigh– no, nine seconds...

A quick knock followed by the opening and closing of the wooden door turned Albus' gaze to his visitor.

He accepted the quick, but almost inaudible apology and gestured to the armchair opposite him. Snape walked forward, but didn't sit down. He seemed to be staring at the desk, as if waiting motionless for something to occur, or, in this case, expecting that the other presence would initiate the conversation.

Albus shifted his body and remained silent: Severus' body language had already announced to him that its owner would not react in a similar fashion now.

"Headmaster... you wished to see me?" Snape inquired after he couldn't bear the oppressing weight of this silence any more.

Albus raised his eyebrows at the formal title and tone, but did not comment about it. Sometimes, Severus required time until he could be at ease and comfortable. That was certainly the case in the past, sometimes he wouldn't even reach that crucial turning point and occasionally, he would still see lingering traces of it. He understood when Severus chose to act professionally and distantly when strangers could see and criticise every move and movement, but for him to retain the same façade when only the two of them were witnesses of each other's actions, was something that saddened him.

Hopefully, the outer layer would quickly crumble down in the present.

"Yes, I know this is not our usual time, and you might be doing something-"

"I wasn't doing something of importance, Headmaster," interrupted Snape hastily.

"Nonetheless, I have disturbed you from-"

"Headmaster, it was nothing of importance," repeated Severus, a soft sigh following this time. He sat down to emphasize his words and stared at the Headmaster, silently communicating that his attention was solely focused on Albus.

At the sight of Severus' action and comments, words from a certain thought that had been sauntering in his mind were repeated: old and worry.

Albus ignored his mind and sat straighter.

"All right."

He paused: he had envisioned the oncoming scene by viewing different words and situations, and had chosen the one that had the biggest chance to succeed, but now they were fastened against his throat, refusing to climb up.

Maybe this would not be a good suggestion: for Albus, this would be the perfect thing to do, but Severus would have a _slightly_ different opinion.

"Headmaster?" the younger man inquired again, his voice gaining a little more volume.

Well, it was too late to stop now, and nothing would be lost or changed if he would refuse...

"Severus, what do you think of the weather?"

Severus turned his head slightly, after hearing the strange question, and glimpsed through the window. Still staring at the open air, he answered, "it is... acceptable."

Acceptable? More like awful, Snape added silently to himself.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"That is very good to hear, my boy."

He took a deep breath and leant forward. As a response, Snape touched the cushion of the furniture and narrowed his eyes a portion: he knew that stance, and knew that Dumbledore was plotting something. Something he would _not_ like.

"I was pondering... maybe we can go outside for a walk?" asked Albus, confirming Severus' suspicion.

No, three times no.

"The weather outside is very nice and comfortable, and we have not done this for quite a while, if I have remembered it correctly," commented Albus when his companion had not moved. Nor answered.

"What will your answer be, Severus?" finished Albus waveringly, a fibre of uncertainty colouring his voice.

Snape examined the Headmaster's expression. He was gazing with a hopeful and expecting expression, even when he was attempting, and failing, to conceal them. Snape would be fabricating a lie to himself if he agreed with Dumbledore's words, but he refused to perceive the disappointment in his face and blue eyes.

Albus had posed them as questions, but Snape knew that he was trying to coax him away from his isolated dungeons. They both knew that he would only seek the sunlight, or moonlight, if necessity urged him. That must be one of the reasons why Albus was very reluctant to have Severus' private chambers near the equally cold and deserted classroom. Snape needed several attempts, and numerous reasons and arguments, with some being the same, but posed as a variant, until the older wizard admitted his defeat, partially. But for the next few weeks, Dumbledore tried on numerous occasions to persuade him with various methods. Some of them were peculiar, but they must had sounded logical to Albus, because he heard nothing but seriousness and sincerity in the other's tone when the older wizard voiced them.

Other ones had lingered longer in Snape's mind before he disregarded it. Dumbledore knew, after weeks, or even months after his very first effort, that he would not change his mind. The advances desisted. But now and then, he would mention that subject, but in a more conversational tone, without expecting a change of opinion.

Albus was meaning it in a good way, no doubt, and Severus had no pressing matter that needed to be done: he had no reasonable excuse to refuse. So he nodded, and a moment later, Severus saw a ridiculously large smile and that ridiculous twinkle in the blue eyes. He almost expected a childish squeal of delight: a thought that always surfaced when Albus was showing this.

Albus stood up and walked to the door. When he noted that the other hadn't moved away from his chair, he turned around and asked, "Severus?"

Snape had half-turned his body and was staring with a confusing gaze while voicing hastily, "where are you going?"

"We are departing, are we not?"

"Now?" Albus' eyes mirrored Severus'.

"Of course," answered Albus. The surprising glint in the black eyes intensified.

He continued with a cautious question, "when do you want go?"

"Obviously not now," uttered Snape, but loud enough for Dumbledore to hear. A silence followed, that was soon broken by a chuckle. Snape frowned and expected the other to tell him the humour in his last remark, but when Dumbledore only smiled at him – and had that twinkle intensified? – he decided to ask.

"What?"

If it was someone else, Snape would think that he was being derided, and he would strike back with a cold, lingual assault, but Albus had not done that.

In the past, Snape had thought numerous times, when he heard Dumbledore's remarks, not only to him, but also to other persons, that he was insulting the target who stood at the receiving end. He was amazed how the insulted were laughing, occasionally even louder than the culprit, quite enjoying themselves for being the centre-point of mockery. If there were more heads listening, most would join too, without further response.

When they defended themselves, he perceived that it was not whole-heartedly meant. The attack would never cause more harm than the original one. And never had he heard a sentence that hit a sensitive area.

He didn't understand it. He didn't understand how they could find joy at being ridiculed and insulted. He didn't understand how they decided not to clash with the wrongdoer. He did not understand how an insult could bring contentment and mirth.

The first time Dumbledore had chosen him as the prime target, he had immediately bounced a provocation back to him. He expected a second, heavier response, but Dumbledore didn't demonstrate this thought. Snape had assumed, then, that his remark had succeeded, but when he saw the blue eyes, he knew something was not right.

He was correct: every person who was seated within hearing distance, were all staring at him in silence, their activities momentarily forgotten. He quickly excused himself and rid himself of the many eyes, and most importantly, the blue pair.

The day after this puzzling occurrence, he expected a reprimand, but the Headmaster acted normally and didn't mention his manoeuvre. Even the other observers' mouths remained closed and didn't act differently or revealed to him that his behaviour would not pass without consequences.

Snape did notice that the Headmaster did not include him any more in his... verbal assaults, and when he heard his name, it was said to start a conversation or ask a question. That didn't mean that Dumbledore was fully ignoring him. It seemed that he had leapt away for a while, and then slowly coming closer again, but this time in a more careful manner, as if afraid to make the same mistake again.

It had taken weeks, he thought, or even longer. But at some point, Dumbledore had teased him again, this time in an even more friendly manner, if that was even possible in the first place, than commonly. It wasn't exactly aimed towards him, it was directed more to himself. Slowly, Albus took another step, and another one, when noticing that Snape wouldn't react with roughness and fierceness.

Now, Severus didn't repeat his foolish action whenever Albus was jesting: sometimes he even secretly welcomed them.

"Severus, what better time to venture outside than now?"

Severus opened his mouth, but Albus continued, cutting his response, "and no, we will not wait until the Sun has concluded his cycle."

Snape sighed: he was not going to win this argument, and his neck was beginning to hurt him. It was better to cease his swiftly diminishing resistance. With a second sigh, he slowly stood up and walked towards Albus, who had been holding the door open for him.

* * *

"A beautiful day, isn't it?"

Snape grunted.

"Nature seems to be particularly impatient, this year. I've lost count already how many beautiful colours I've seen, now."

Feet unnecessary abused the greenness.

"The animals seem to have noticed this fortunate situation, too. How many have you seen, Severus?"

"I've counted thirty seven, not including the many I cannot see," said Albus, answering his own question, and subtly glancing at his companion again.

"The sun is very bright, too," Albus said, shielding his eyes and briefly looking upward before glancing fully at the other.

"Still staring at the grass, dear boy?"

Snape gave his companion a sideways glance, his first one, but didn't respond.

"I see you're still glum."

"I am not–" he stopped when seeing Albus' smiling face and rolled his eyes: to have fallen in this bait so easily, after successfully avoiding it for more than a few minutes. His eyes gazed around, absorbing the surroundings, his ears captured sounds of Nature, his nose inhaled fresh, earthy scents and alluring aromas and rays of the Sun warmed his skin.

It was a beautiful day. The temperature was chilly, but not cold enough to chafe skin and the nature was alive and green, but not too colourful, signalling that the flowers, plants and trees weren't in full bloom yet. The sweet fragrances tapped to him that this environment was blooming with life and energy, trying to achieve a higher result than the previous outcome.

Students were not exploring this part: they chose an area closer to the castle or remained inside.

It was... peaceful and Severus felt... strangely comfortable here. The presence walking beside him only amplified it.

"Shall we sit over there for a moment?" asked Albus while pointing to a large tree with his right hand. When hearing no protest, he changed his course and walked toward the massive wood.

Albus chose a place that was shadowed by the numerous, thick branches and elegantly lowered himself on the soft grass. Snape waited until Albus was seated, before sitting down. Unlike Albus, he selected a place that wasn't darkened.

Albus noticed this, and the distance that was created between them, but only curled his lips, shifted his body to sit more comfortably and rested his back on a relatively soft spot on the ancient plant.

It wasn't needed to break the silence, and the distance mattered not.

Snape glanced at Albus: he was resting against the bulky stem with closed eyes, while a small smile touched his expression.

He looked tranquil and serene. Severus suspected that Albus had done this more than once, and began to understand why he wanted Snape to experience this.

This was not the first time they had walked Hogwarts' ground, but every time, their travel was dampened with important news, messages or matters. Their minds were too occupied to notice the beauty that encircled them. When they had the luxury to have a carefree walk, it would usually be far in the evening, and never in the morning or afternoon, where Nature could be experienced most intensely.

Severus craned his neck and glanced up: sun rays swept across his face and blinded his eyes. He quickly closed them, but did not move.

Normally, he abhorred the Sun. It was burning him. His skin was fragile, a quality he had inherited from his mother, and would be easily sunburned and damaged.

But that was the smallest reason. It could be easily avoided by a swift shielding-charm or a simple salve.

The brightness made him feel naked and trapped. It would made him feel very uncomfortable and everything would be exposed: his thoughts and movements could not be hidden. He could not use the blackness to conceal himself. He could not blend in the emptied darkness any more. He could not hide, when required.

He had used the shadows many, many times, for different objectives. It was, of course, an essential tool when spying or shadowing, or... being pre-cautious.

When he would stand in the black mist, he would be given time to think; to search for a solution. If that satisfied him, he would step into the light. At most times, his presence would not be noticed until he had made his presence known.

That was another reason: he could safely observe another person without their knowledge, an essential condition that must be met. Only when a person was thinking that they were alone, would they loosen their behaviour, lowering their thick, multiple masks. It was only then that their true nature could be known.

Snape had succeeded quite a few times, but, naturally, the Headmaster had yet to completely drop his concealment. He was certain that Dumbledore had yet to show him a... conflicting side that everyone had. He had yet to see him without the ever-present politeness, hospitality and cheerfulness surrounding him.

Warmness... He didn't like having it warm and comfortable. His hands were always cold. Even in a summer day, his fingers would still be chilly. His toes, too. Beneath the solid material of the boots, and the firm softness of socks, chilliness still embraced him. No matter how many layers of clothes he would wear, he could still feel the cold breezes of wind through the minuscule holes. And this moment was no exception.

When he saw the brightness, even behind the closed eyelids, he compared it to Albus, not the person who was sitting contently a few metres away from him, but the name.

The literal meaning was bellowed in his mind. The word that was untainted and pure. And Albus was certainly those two things. As a leader, he must give the correct example to the people who followed him. He must help and protect them when trouble arrived, when advices and actions were needed. He would do what was expected of someone with his calibre and status, but what he was accomplishing was so much more than most people would notice and understand. He welcomed more tasks than needed. Accepting too many responsibilities. Burdening himself with more things than necessary. With unimportant things, too...

Light made everything visible. It gave colour by overwhelming and expelling the shades of grey and black. It couldn't be stopped, once it had touched them. It would spread the bright rays in every direction. When it would be deflected, it would come back with increased and brighter bundles, until it would be absorbed or vanished.

How light could change darkness into a lighter colour, so could Albus convert a person's wrong path into a right one. When he had set his eyes on something, he would not release his hold until he was satisfied, like light would return continuously until its mark was illuminated from all angles.

Severus was a perfect example of that...

He snorted, shook his head, opened his eyes and glanced at Albus again. He had not moved and Snape was beginning to wonder whether he had fallen asleep.

"What is amusing you?" asked Albus, his eyes still closed, his voice hushed and surprising Snape.

"Nothing."

Snape paused, and then added another word, "musing."

"Care to enlighten me?" continued Albus after waiting a small moment, where Severus didn't elaborate his short response.

Severus thought for a moment: he could not reveal his thoughts, which were carefully hidden, at least, not now. But, perhaps he could talk about something else. Albus' name, for example. It had appeared and would not leave its newly-founded place.

"You are White."

Blue eyes quickly opened and glanced confusedly at him.

"Pardon me?"

Severus repeated the words, while suppressing a grin.

"'White'?"

Albus gazed at the grass at his feet and then at Severus again.

"Yes."

This time, he could not stop a small smile when Albus straightened his back and continued to stare at him with a puzzled gaze.

When it remained silent for a minute, Severus decided to give Albus a hint.

"Aged."

Albus raised his eyebrows at hearing another puzzling word, but after a moment, he, too, smiled.

"Ah, I understand."

Severus sighed deeply with a small shake of his head, knowing that these actions would bring an even wider smile on the aged face.

"Are you suggesting, Severus, that I am _old_?"

"Are you not, then?"

The answer followed almost immediately, "absolutely not!"

"You are right. I spoke too hastily."

Severus paused and glanced at the other, seeing that Albus had narrowed his eyes a fraction at the quick victory. He was accurate to be suspicious.

"You are not old. You are almost ancient... and much too fragile and crippled."

Silence.

Snape quickly glanced at the older wizard when he heard no response, but sparkling blue eyes stared at him.

"Oh my... I think the sunlight has really changed you. However... I think you are forgetting a few important words."

"Such as?"

"Well... I have been told that I'm extravagant-"

"I think you wanted to say senile," interrupted Severus. Albus supplied to him a long stare before continuing, ignoring the hindrance.

"Different-"

"I think you mean strange."

"Intelligent," pronounced Albus louder to halt the other's reaction.

"Not intelligent, but _experienced,_" responded Severus with less volume in his voice.

"Kind-"

"More like bothersome." Severus murmured.

"Strong-"

"Only _mentally_."

"And... of course," said Albus, but not without pinning Severus down with another stare after hearing the last word: he knew the hidden meaning.

"I am just charming," concluded Albus with a slightly higher tone than at the beginning of his frequently interfered sentence.

"Irritably."

"The last word is certainly not true, Severus."

"In your eyes, maybe. But _I _see a very different person."

Albus sighed deeply, a little too deeply, and replied, "must you contradict every word I have said?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, without malice or anger, and Albus saw what he hoped to see: contentment and glee. It lacked the brooding and silent surface, things he saw when they took the first step towards the grass.

Albus wanted to accomplish several things by bringing Severus outside, away from the dark and cold dungeons, and it seemed that it had worked.

They had travelled quite a distance, but that forced Severus to walk more than he wanted to, at least voluntary.

Severus was not someone who would walk aimlessly. Wherever he would go, there must be a purpose at the destination. He would also choose the most practical way to travel. This led to him not wasting energy and time. They could be used for more important things, both which were valuable to him and would never be enough for him.

His pace was slower than usual and confirmed Albus' suspicions: Severus was reluctant to move his body unneeded, appeared tired, and was in a brooding mood. The first and second one disappeared when they had been walking for some minutes; Severus had slowly quickened his strides, doing this without having noticed a difference in Albus'.

The third one faded, well... a few moments ago.

Exercise could do wonderful things to one's body _and_ mind. But that was not the only helping factor.

Sunlight was just as effective as exercise. Severus had told him on numerous occasions that he did not enjoy sunlight, but Albus saw the opposite when he was covertly glancing at him: tranquillity.

Albus was, at first, hesitant to continue with this idea. These two things would calm him and take his mind away from chaotic areas, but what worked for him, did not guarantee the same effectiveness for Severus.

His doubtful feeling increased in the first minutes when he glanced at his silent companion; Not once did he meet his eyes and he did not notice his surroundings. But he slowly showed some promising signs.

And now, while he was staring in the same eyes again, he was glad that he hadn't listened to them.

Severus' words were still fresh in his mind, but one comment had been vibrating more than the rest.

"That is your view then." It is a rather shameful view in my opinion, he added loudly in his mind.

"But, my boy, you seem to think that I am not strong?"

"Mentally, you are quite capable." Which frustrates me immensely, Severus thought, clear and loud enough for the other to hear.

"But... physically, I am not so sure."

"Has no one told you, my dear Severus, that physical power is _non-existent _compared to the wonderful strength of one's mind?"

The impish and jesting mood that had captured him, melted suddenly. Black eyes lowered to stare at the earth and the body wrapped in black sat more straighter.

Albus frowned his eyebrows at the sudden change of mood, momentarily forgetting his own merry and teasing mood. He waited, giving Severus the chance to explore the new thoughts and emotions.

After a long moment, in which the white eyebrows had been creasing even more, Snape slowly stood up and brushed the nature away from his outer cloak with a slow, unsteady hand. A few remained plastered against his hand, causing his eyes to stare at the leaves.

A few seconds passed before he rid them with a quick shake. Snape felt a pair of eyes focused on his form and took a quick peek.

Dumbledore was standing – when had he moved? – and was examining him with an austere expression, but when he saw where Snape's attention was aimed at, he relaxed the muscles on his face and walked towards him.

"Shall we go back?" he suggested, ignoring his concern, for he suspected that this was not the right time to pressure Severus.

When Snape didn't answer, Dumbledore delivered a second choice, "or... we can walk a little more."

"No," replied Snape, his voice quivering, almost unnoticeable.

"No, you want to return? Or no, you want to walk?" asked Albus with a slight amused tone in his voice, trying to lighten the conversation and chase away the worried questions, while ignoring the quality of Severus' voice.

Snape didn't see the humour: his blank expression did not change. Albus sobered and turned his body toward Hogwarts, but before he could take a step, he saw the back of Severus, already marching away from him.

With a slightly troubled expression, only noticed only by himself, he followed Severus.

* * *

Once again, Albus was sitting behind his office desk, but this time, his hands were entwined, with the pads of the thumbs touching each other in an unpunctual manner.

He didn't want their meeting to end so early. When their feet had touched the hard surface, Severus thanked him and excused himself. He noticed that Severus had paused, twice, giving Albus two opportunities to stop him.

Albus did not latch on them, but only nodded, voiced his own opinion of this afternoon and stared again at Severus' retreating back.

He suspected that Severus would decline his further plan: eating dinner together.

It wasn't specifically planned. The idea was formed when they were walking back and even in his mind, it had a small chance of success. Well... there were plenty of other opportunities to ask Severus. He would accept it, one day, whether voluntary or with much encouragement.

Albus pushed his thumbs together and applied pressure simultaneously.

Something had changed again. He was acting in the same manner: before they had felt the first sun ray against their faces.

His behaviour had abruptly changed after hearing that sentence. It was said in a pleasant manner; everything, Severus' words included, were not said to produce harm and pain. There was truth in the words, but he hadn't expected Severus' response: that sentence would soon be forgotten, for they would be talking about another subject, not lingering on and rummaging through details.

His mind had said the words numerous times, in different tones and emphasis, but he did not detect a different meaning.

These words were not the sole matter that had his scrutiny.

It took him a few moments to analyse Severus' words, and even then had he only understood it partially. The word 'white' was a delicate way to say that he was aged. The second meaning, that needed more time to become clear, was the literal meaning of his name. But there seemed to be a third meaning, one that he was not aware of, until now.

Albus knew that some people see him as their guider, supplying them with the proper examples and advices, and that he would be the wizard to overthrow Lord Voldemort, directly or indirectly. They had viewed it correct, and for a period, these were his most important aims, goals that must be reached before Time would overtake his physical existence.

But now, there was something more valuable to him, someone who had claimed a large portion of his attention and care.

Albus fulfilled more than his role as a commander and making just decisions. He carried a knight's sword, protecting his king, symbol for his loved ones, holding the adjoined shield when not offence, but defence was desired, and his mind and soul possessed the essence and capacity to continue this never-ending quest. A perceptive trait was to sense when assistance was needed and what kind of action must be taken.

During their meeting, that feature pulsed more than once, and he acted accordingly: the sensation diminished and with it, the antagonistic grasp that was holding the presence of his concern.

But now he was sensing it again: it had grown stronger, the effects of his aid becoming inept, the results inferior to the wretched claws of vileness.

Albus untangled his hands and leant back.

That was not entirely correct: he did see progress. His interruptions portrayed that. It was only in the last part that Severus' behaviour had changed.

And that brought him back to the beginning of the circle: was his worry accurately? Was he observing and interpreting more things than existed?

His mind repeated the same, persisting thoughts to him, approaching with reasons and arguments that should ease him.

Yet, Albus could not melt a sensation, a sensation indicating to him that a dear person required him.

* * *

_The second chapter, finally posted, after long, long delay! _

_Again, this chapter is heavily focused on the inner dialogue of our two, main characters. I promise (to those who dislike this) that the next chapter will have (slightly) more dialogue. It's almost finished, that one, but I'm not entirely satisfied with a few things. I hope I can fix them, soon, and post the third chapter!_

_Don't hesitate to write a review! _


	3. Why?

_**Chapter three: Why?**_

* * *

"I am glad you are here, Severus."

Snape's lips showed a swift, subtle smile, before closing the door and walking towards the older wizard, who was leaning against his desk, one hand resting lightly on the wooden surface.

It had been a week since he was last here, which was a long time if he examined Albus', and his own patterns.

He was surprised when a note was send to him: Albus had long since stopped sending them. But he should have expected it: he didn't appear in the usual time. This wasn't rare, but not common either. Most times, they – but mostly Snape – would compensate this: an unhurried breakfast, a long dinner, a quiet walk on the grass, a cosy evening... But they would at least leave a message, to avoid hasty, wrong conclusions.

This time, Snape had done neither. It astonished him how easily he had chosen this rare path, as if these meetings weren't important to him. As if he didn't care what the Headmaster would think of him, that he would assume things: wrong things... correct things...

Snape blocked the thoughts and focused his vision. The Headmaster was suddenly standing much closer to him, and staring at him with a mixed face, and still eyes.

Unconsciously, he took a small step back. The expressed anxiety was clear now, for a fraction, before Dumbledore slowly turned his body and walked away.

Snape's lowered eyes subtly followed the retreating form. His mind was beginning to knock against his swiftly created barrier. Again.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked, while gesturing towards the opened door.

Snape glanced properly at the Headmaster and walked to the sitting room.

The sight was... different. In front of him, a table was set. One missing thing was the food, and judging by the gap, there wouldn't be few.

With another small, invisible nudge from the Headmaster, Snape moved to the table. A third, subtle encouragement caused him to sit down. From his eye corner, he saw a hand moving to his shoulder, but he didn't feel the small weight. A moment later, Dumbledore appeared in front of him, sitting in the opposite chair.

"Headmaster–" began Snape, but was interrupted by Dumbledore, who snapped his fingers once; freshly prepared food appeared in various sorts and sizes. Snape wasn't wrong: they were numerous, but most dishes, he recognized immediately. Snape knew exactly which the Headmaster's favourite dishes were. Some could be seen between the diverse plates.

Dumbledore would rarely try foreign food; he preferred to stay in his comfort-zone. That didn't mean he had a very dainty taste. No, Dumbledore would rarely leave a plate uneaten, but his favourites were but a few.

It took Snape quite a while to notice which one were counted as a favourite, but now, he knew them. At least, most of them. How could he not, when, most of the time, he was gently forced to sit beside the Headmaster, during times when a meal was to be served. The occasional invitation, known or unknown, had one included, too.

Snape was very unlike the Headmaster.

His appetite was small, whereas Dumbledore's was... a little more. It still surprised Snape how he could retain this lean figure so easily. He suspected that magic must be involved. He could think of no other explanation. The amount of sugar he consumed, each day, again and again, combined with other... things he didn't understand how it could bring such joy in a person, couldn't be a healthy habit to have. If this particular heart didn't belong to this particular person, he was sure it would had stopped beating countless times. Although, it _could _explain where he had received the energy from to practise his... immature, eccentric and the always joyful and energetic behaviour.

When Snape was eating, he would almost always try new things. But he didn't like most dishes: they weren't disgusting, but the taste buds wouldn't be jolted either. They were edible, but not enjoyable. He had yet to find a dish he could adore. He did almost stop a few times, because the thought had appeared that there wasn't a dish that could possible be suited for a person such as himself. But every time, Albus would persist and encourage him until they both had tasted a new, foreign thing, hence why he couldn't stop his unsuccessful, and quite pointless search.

Snap resisted to avert his eyes and face when seeing yet another habit: Albus took great care in decorating the table, as if he wanted to be certain that no speck was excluded from this... festive, intimate table. Dumbledore was currently pondering. His expression showed absolute seriousness, but Snape only felt impatience. What did it matter which pattern was to be chosen for the table linen? The constant change of patterns and colours irritated his eyes. And what use had this excessive... decoration, anyway?

All Snape wanted now, was to grab his fork and knife, and just... eat, and not staring dreamingly at the pointless objects and enjoying them. Well, at least Dumbledore didn't ask for his opinion: they both knew all too well how that ended...

This meal would take a very long bite from Time.

* * *

Snape eyed the liquid in the cup for a second, while deeply inhaling the familiar scent, before taking a large sip. The temperature was warm: it didn't burn his tongue, but the inside of his mouth was jolted. In other words, it was the perfect temperature.

Dumbledore had been sipping his a few minutes before he had picked up his own one. It had always been in this manner. Albus was less sensitive to the warmth... or Snape was over-sensitive to the hotness. When he could still see steam, he would wait, while the other would already be chewing or swallowing. It wasn't only with food and drinks: in general, Albus was better resistant against high temperatures, while Snape preferred cool temperatures. Albus was always surrounded by an illumination, following him – or was it originating from him? – while Snape seemed to chase everything, but darkness and coldness away.

It was a cliché, and therefore, not the perfect description: it was acceptable, but he couldn't think of better words to use at the moment.

Snape swallowed the tea and waited for the eruption. As soon as it was falling down in his stomach, the sweetness enveloped his throat and coated all other flavours. One, small sip was enough to cause this. With each breath, he could feel the ease in which the air could travel.

This flavour, introduced by Albus and a favourite, had become Snape's favourite, too. Normally, Snape was not admired of sweet things, but he adored this particular after-taste. It remained plastered in his mouth, coating his throat, long after he had swallowed the last sip, demonstrating its dominance and lingering strength.

He loved how it seemed like a normal, flavourless tea when it was swimming in his mouth. But, when swallowed, it would reveal it's true essence. The very first sip was the most important one. It was the most intense one.

A distant voice made another comparison, this one concerning him, and the word 'revealing' could be heard very clearly.

If Severus' grip wasn't so tight, he would have dropped the cup. This was one of the few occasions where he blessed the rare refusal to obey the commands of his brain.

However, not all was ignored. The elicited reflex when an obscure substance was discovered in the trachea. The unsightly consequence couldn't be stopped: a spot of the carpet gained a darker colour. Nor could the following bursts of soft laughter, mingled with harsh, unpleasant interruptions, be prevented.

Snape brushed away the dampness on the corners of his eyes. There was no need to use discretion this time, for it would develop in an unpleasant result. Black, glittering eyes glared at the amused face.

Albus' merriment had ceased, yet he still had that smile plastered on his face, almost silent chuckles appearing ever so often.

Considerable time had passed, but no alternation occurred. Thus the faster did Severus' irritation rise, until it could no longer be contained in the small, fragile cage in his mind.

"That is _quite_ enough."

Still no change, even when Severus sighed audibly.

"I understand your _message_, Albus," claimed Severus, but the increasing sounds of renewed laughter contradicted him.

He had no choice. Unless he would plead, he was certain that Albus' state would change into a permanent one. He was correct, well, partially: Albus sobered, albeit in a slow – a too slow pace – but periodically, Albus would refer to the earlier accident.

After the fourth hint, the unstable box rattled again, and Severus reacted. Again. Quite in a different manner.

A new fit of laughter, but more subdued and fleeting, this time.

Albus had missed this, terribly, he had realized now. His reactions represented what his mind could not comprehend yet.

How long had it been since Albus had laughed so genuinely, so fully and almost childlike?

In these last months, this world had no places reserved for amusement and merriment. Particularly for Albus'. If he had the fortune that his ears had hooked around humour, it was heavily shadowed by duties and worries, the second quelling the first.

That question could be directed to Severus, too: despite his reactions, Albus knew Severus was enjoying this, perhaps not as much as himself, but he was far away from his usual mood. That, in turn, increased Albus' happiness, and he suspected that his reaction would lower Severus' unhappiness, and raise his contentment. A familiar circle had reappeared, a circle Albus feared had crumbled, the fragments forever crushed under Past's and Present's weights.

Indeed, it was until a moment ago, that Albus understood how sorely he had yearned for the younger man's humour.

Most people would announce that it was sarcastic; at times bordering on sadism, adoring to injure the target's feelings, opinion or beliefs. Brusque, heartless, anti-social, these were three other words that would be frequently heard or spoken, known only deep inside a person's mind, or shared with more minds.

If they were ambivalent, commonly the circumstance, they would lean on a secure wall: push the threat away, assume that Severus' jesting was cloaked, that danger was peeking underneath, waiting to be released and hunt the prey.

Albus did not agree. As always, his opinion differed from the majority, occasionally believing in the complete opposite. This matter was no exception.

It was dry and cutting, but very amusing to hear and far too undervalued. He conjured words, formed by accurate observation. He mingled this with his own thoughts, and the result was a truth, surrounded by words which were heavily coloured by bleakness, austerity and bitterness. Not many could see past this heavy cloak, and Albus suspected he was one of the few who could almost touch the carefully hidden, angelic core.

If only other spectators could see what Albus saw... this world would become an extraordinary place to live.

A touch on his forearm, followed by a gentle thrust towards his mind, gained Albus a new, sharp-tongued comment and the sharpening of his vision.

Minutes, seconds or hours – Snape was certain his sense of time wasn't accurate – must had passed, before observing that his hand had yet to release its grasp. With the clearing of his throat, Snape loosened his hold and stared at the patterns on the ground.

The Headmaster duplicated the sound, before whispering, "a lovely evening, today..."

Snape nodded, the state of his mind far beyond the accustomed protection.

"Different from usual."

A second nod.

"Contrasting your recent... or old habits?"

Snape hummed.

A pause, followed by a third question.

"What shapes do they form?"

"The familiar ones," Snape replied, barely noticing the words coming from his mouth, but hearing Albus' clearly.

"'Familiar ones'?"

The third nod this day.

"Perhaps–" Albus halted, fixed in an inner debate, before starting again. "Could you... specify?"

Snape responded not to Albus, but to himself, for his thoughts were plagued by past memories and present opinions.

"Your... eating habits?" speculated Albus, when receiving no reaction.

An affirmative sound.

"Sleeping habits?" continued Albus, incited by Severus' answers and the rare lack of resistance.

Snape didn't repeat his answer, but did not disagree either.

_A silent answer signified agreement, _thought Albus.

"Dreams?"

The word he wanted to whisper was a slightly different one, but Albus knew he was sneaking in changeable surface. He did not want to lose his fortunate grip. But it seemed his hold was disconnected: Severus gazed at him, the first time since Albus' inquire began. A confused expression marked his face. He ought to take a step back from Severus' area, but Albus remained inside. He would not squander this chance if it could be avoided, judging what action to make next.

Snape glanced in the blue pools, attempting to comprehend what had occurred. His mind had, once again, journeyed to a place far away from this room. Faint words and subtle movements could be remembered, but the exact details remained unknown, so did the meaning of Albus' last question, consisted of one word. Inquiring was preposterous, but ignoring it would be illogical. The remaining route would be to wait and deduce from Albus' response, his following answer.

A silence materialised, enveloping around them, but not absorbed by both men. A silence both desisted to break. But the curious effect of Time weakened both refusals, and before long, both opposed their thoughts.

Simultaneously.

"Perhaps I–"

"I perceive that–"

As soon as the disharmonious vibrations clashed, but nonetheless, creating pleasant sounds, both stopped, their owner using different senses: the perception of eyes. Both perceived a similar view, and both reacted similarly; amusement.

"A surprising turn this conversation has made, hasn't it?" Albus asked, after a moment of peace had passed.

Severus' behaviour had changed again, compared to the moment he had opened the door. It was an advantageous change.

Albus shifted his body, using that moment to order the haphazard thoughts in his mind, before resuming his earlier activity.

"I am happy to see delightedness adorning your face – don't attempt to deny it, I know what I've seen, Severus – and you _know _what kind of reaction that has on me."

The eyes of Severus travelled to the strapped boots, his cheeks starting to take a fleshly colour, and Albus could not stop a smile. A large smile. He knew that would only add more pink on Severus' face, and more irritation in his mind, but it had been such a long period since the last time his young friend was expressing this. Albus needed this small moment of merriment, away from the sombre thoughts, for he would soon quench it with aimed words.

He halted them for a moment longer, until the colour had largely disappeared, before beginning, "Severus... how are you feeling?"

"How do you think, Albus?" replied Severus, his voice indicating that his outer appearance was not in the same state as his mind.

"Well... I am not referring to this exact moment – I see the results still – but... how do you feel today?"

"As usual. Fine."

"Could you... elaborate it a bit?" asked Albus carefully, when Severus had not offered him more words. Severus gazed more intensely in his eyes, and Albus saw an appearing frown.

"What is there to elaborate?"

"'Fine' is a general word. Perhaps you can specify."

The frown, a subtle one, was formed now, but his pure chocolate eyes had not desisted their current focus. Albus was slipping in unstable territory, but the danger wasn't visible yet.

"I feel... content. Is there something else I must be feeling?" inquired Snape, when he saw that the blue eyes had formed a small brush of unease.

"No, but perhaps you have been experiencing more feelings: joy or... happiness."

Severus' frown had grown deeper.

"Let us forget that... how has things progressed this week?" asked Albus swiftly, quickly searching for balance.

"As usual," Snape answered slowly. He waited, but this time, the answer of Albus was silence and a deeper stare.

"Nothing unusual has occurred," resumed Snape, a small part hoping that these words were the correct ones. It was the truth.

"The week went well," continued Snape, adding a second handful of words. His stare had been uncomfortable, but now it was distressing him, his mind carrying illogical thoughts, but thoughts that could be true.

"Nothing has happened."

Albus' penetrating eyes had reached another height, and Snape quickly ducked his own. The motion was unnecessary, and so was the prime thought that was flying bombastically in his head: Albus would _never_ forcefully intrude this lone, barricaded solace and gain possession of unspoken information. Although, Snape was unsure whether 'solace' was the correct word now; it was far from being in harmony and a calm and safe place to retreat to.

"Severus... are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Nothing unfamiliar has taken place?"

"Nothing unfamiliar."

A pause again, longer this time.

"No unexpected development?"

Snape shook his head, the gesture too sudden to have heard the last syllables, and too swift for his mind to have absorbed the content. The drilling ocean's orbs bored holes into his head, seeming to travel straight into his mind. If their eyes had been fixed upon each other, he was certain that Albus could unravel everything that were concealed in the carefully structured walls and the vast structure inside, that had morphed into a labyrinth in the past few weeks.

"I am not certain whether–"

"Exactly. You cannot be sure, but I _can,_" said Snape, abruptly interrupting Dumbledore.

"And I am sure," added Snape, a finality in his tone.

Albus' feet had stepped on a mine, and now he was rapidly blown away from the territory.

"Severus, I understand that–"

"Then _why_ are you continuing?"

The harsh, hostile tone was impossible not to miss.

The walls had rapidly strengthened themselves to prevent an entry. Now, Albus was watching the familiar sight of the isolation, the defence, the hostility. It was no use maintaining his current direction now.

The clear-sky coloured eyes finally left the overflowed, blackish targets, and with them, the visible, and invisible tenseness.

"I... I apologize, Albus," Severus delicately whispered, the aggression vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Albus shook his head, quietly brushing away Severus' words. An action, repeated countless times. By now, Albus had hoped that Severus had finally seen that his apologies were far from needed in his presence. In fact, he wanted him to take greater care of himself, and not constantly fretting about Albus' feelings and thoughts: Severus had a far greater need for it, than himself. Yet, this message refused to reach the other: his black eyes focused downwards – again did Albus feel a slight feeling of envy towards the floor – and his shoulders slumped.

"Another cup of tea?" asked Albus tentatively, hoping that this question would melt whatever wrong feelings his dear friend was wrapped in, and occupy his mind, chasing away invisible things that Albus had caused.

"No, thank you. It's late, already."

Without waiting for a comment, Snape straightened his body and walked to the door. Before touching the handle, he turned his neck and showed a swift, almost apologetic smile.

The area surrounding the eyes weren't wrinkled, and the eyes were gazing at a place just below Albus'.

* * *

It was late, too late in the evening, when a letter flew from the hearth, and startling Snape. He had just managed to calm his mind and had been preparing for a quick nap.

Re-awakening himself from the shallow slumber, he almost gracelessly left the couch. He caught the oncoming object, before it would aimlessly float around and innocently touch an object that could damage the fragile material.

Surprised he was, when he did not see the graceful, green handwriting: neat, formal, but not an unfamiliar style in which the letters were shaped, appeared in his vision.

His name. Only his given name on the front side. A peculiar manner not to write his full name. Albus would do this, occasionally. He was one of the few who were given allowance, the identity of this person, was not.

With unstable hand, he opened the letter with care, and a short message saluted him. His eyes gradually widened when they travelled from top left to the right bottom.

The name at the end hadn't come as a shock, and only confirmed his suspicions.

Refusing to retrace the letters again, Snape swiftly crumpled the paper and threw it in the place in which it came into sight.

Ignoring the dull ache in his foot, and the nasty mark that would appear tomorrow, he sat down, bringing a second jolt of pain. The messages of the body were overlooked, because the mind was demanding all attention and energy, focused on only one question, one word.

_Why?_

If he added another word, yet another one would appear, and another one, and so on, until multiple questions requested his attention. This would waste the long, passed minutes, used to form a serene air.

With a deep, long sigh he slumped further down in the hard chair. He almost fell down, because his aim wasn't accurately pointed towards the seat. He cared not for such trivial things now, for another evening was wasted, now. With unpleasant information...

* * *

_We slowly learn more about the present state of mind of the Potions Master, and the thoughts of the Headmaster. As promised, this chapter contains more dialogue than the previous ones. _

_It's a little shorter than the previous two chapters, since I've rummaged through a few things here, but I hope that you've enjoyed the end result, nonetheless!_

_I'm working on chapter four. But, from now on, you can expect a (much) slower update, since I'm not very far, yet, and have some difficulty how and when I should present some (future) things. I also want to focus on another, (much) shorter story, too, there are a few one-shots which I want to complete, as well... And, since a few days, much of my attention has been focused on more (other) characters than these two... _

_As always, don't hesitate to review. Both the good _and _the bad ones I will welcome. Of course, the same thing I say if you want to comment on the AN in chapter one. I'm not quite sure whether it's known that I've changed it, some time ago now._


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